Don't fix what's not broken.
-- Robert Atkins
In The Runes of the Earth, Donaldson introduced time travel to the Land. The Laws of Death and of Life are broken, and Joan's wild magic is fracturing the Arch of Time, allowing ceasures to wreak havoc to sequentiality. In addition, powerful beings, who are now capable of time travel -- or who have always been capable -- appear on the story's stage.
Within the first volume of the Final Chronicles, there is a substantial amount of temporal legerdemain. Anele has been snatched from his time and thrown forward by a ceasure, and Liand says that other people in the Land have entered ceasures and are never seen again. Linden uses ceasures with more control, to obtain the Staff of Law and return again. Esmer seems to move about in time at will, and hints that any Elohim could do the same. He is able to carry a horde of Demondim with him as jumps back and forth on the time line, who in turn weild a ceasure to access the Illearth Stone in the Land's distant past.
In all these adventures, the threat of creating a paradox looms. We learn that such paradox threatens the already weakened Arch of Time. And so Linden strives to avoid paradoxes at all costs, even the ones that where thrown under her wheels by Esmer. Even Esmer and the Elohim, in their own mysterious ways, strive to avoid paradoxes as well.
In Fatal Revenant, the perils of time travel reach a new level. Paradoxes can no longer be avoided. Roger's and the Theomach's chicanery place Linden squarely before Berek Lord-Fatherer, and no determination nor skill can prevent past events from being altered.
It turns out that these developments are not fatal to the Arch. The Theomach is able to guide Linden, in some way, through time's nettles safely.
Accommodate the effects of your presence and your deeds. The Theomach, using his deep well of knowledge, can choose a path for Linden that does not endanger the Arch. Simply put, he makes sure that the ramifications of any actions Linden takes are not greatly different than would occur otherwise. He doesn't prevent time from being changed (if it is, indeed, changed), but he ensures that such changes are small enough that their ripples quickly disappear rather than snowball."I assume that what we're doing suits your purpose, whatever that is. But isn't it dangerous? For God's sake, we're about to meet the most famous of the Land's old heroes." Covenant had warned her about ripples. "No matter how careful we are, he'll see and hear things -"
"Lady," the Theomach put in, be at peace." His tone was gentle; meant to soothe her. "I have said that you serve my purpose. Therefore I must serve yours.
"Here the preservation of the Arch need not trouble you. That burden is mine. At great cost, I have garnered knowledge which you lack, and my knowledge is profound. Be assured that I will watch over you. [...]
"Where my guidance is needed, I will provide it. And I will accommodate the effects of both your presence and your deeds. You need only trust in yourself - and heed my counsel. In the fullness of time, my aid will demonstrate its worth."
So: Time is mutable, but it is also lenient. You can change the past, if the changes are small enough to be repaired, healed over. It's the gross disruptions that are the danger. The Theomach guards Linden against mistaken actions and unconsidered words, and spins tales to Lord Berek, and Linden even extracts an oath of silence from Berek. In these ways, the Arch is preserved.
Although the danger is averted, Donaldson hasn't yet revealed to us, the readers, how to consider the alternate timeline that was created by Linden meeting Berek. Is there only one version of those events, are are there now two versions, coexisting in some way? Was the sequence of events altered, or have the events that came to pass always been as they were revealed to us? Is there a paradox, or not? We can speculate, but we do not know. The only thing we can be sure of are the events as Linden sees them.
But there are other perils to be faced when we alter the past. Those that are not faced by the characters in the story, but by the author; the aftermath is felt by us, the readers.
Let's introduce a phrase: historical reinterpretation - the process of revisiting something that is in the story's past and, through a new point of view, discovering that those events weren't what we thought they were. First the story establishes "what happened", either as the story unfolds, or through expositional material. Subsequently, usually in the manner of a surprise, heretofore unknown details are discovered that cause us to reinterpret "what happened". We discover that "what happened" wasn't really what we thought had happened at all.
Historical reinterpretation can happen in a number of ways; it is not limited to time travel stories. Sometimes the author can add revelatory passages where the point of view is in the story's past. Or characters may discover diaries, recordings or other kinds of clues that provide new information from the past. Or, as was common in the Gap Cycle, the author can change the point of view to a character who, having different information, interpreted the same event in a different way.
When you link historical reinterpretation with time travel, you get "The Back To The Future Effect". The Back to the Future movies are a familiar demonstration of combining time-travel with historical reinterpretation. When Marty travels back in time and goes to the Under the Sea Dance, it completely revises the audience's understanding of how his parents became a couple; when he goes back again, it changes that understanding again. Historical reinterpretations are layered on, one at a time, each layer unforseen by the one before.
Historical reinterpretation can be an exciting addition to a story. Changing the interpretation of past events can create unexpected plot twists, or resolve apparent mysteries. It can also create an element of suspense in a time travel story, as the time traveller finds a way to navigate through historical events without changing them.
But such things come at a price. When a story provides a new interpretation of past events, the old interpretation must be discarded. If the original way of looking at those elements had any sort of value to the story, then that value is sacrificed in the process.
For readers form opinions and pass judgements on the characters and events in a story; they like or dislike, respect or resent, are turned on or turned off by what they read about. If they like what they read, they are endeared; they invest themselves; they care. So: the reader's good opinion and emotional investment are the things of value that we are speaking of here.
The more a reader cares for certain aspect of a story, the more risk the author takes when they force the reader to revise their opinion of that aspect. If they are skillful, they can replace something enjoyable with something more enjoyable - and that in itself is enjoyable. If they are unwise, the replacement will be inferior, and the reader is disappointed not only in what they lost, and also in the sequence of events that led to the unfortunate re-evaluation.
The author owes us no guarantees that we can continue to look at things the same way forever. And he or she can challenge our intellect and elevate an experience by attacking our assumptions.
But once an opinion is changed, it cannot be restored. Memories and subsequent rereadings are tainted by those opinions. When the reader rereads the initial version of events, they cannot help but remember their revised opinion. Once they learn that the good guy turns out to be the bad guy, they cannot help but suspect everything the bad guy does when they read the story again. Once they learn that an unfortunate event is necessary for the final victory, the event will never seem so unfortunate on further tellings.
This is what makes historical reinterpretation dangerous: the risk that the reader was happier with the original interpretation than he is with the new one. The more the reader has invested in the original, the more dangerous it is to make changes. The worst such changes are considered "sacriligous".
Fans of The Chronicles are certainly invested. In the first Chronicles, we had grown to admire the dedication, the tenacity, and the moral strength of the new Lords. We had come to stand in awe of the Old Lords, who surpassed the new in many ways, and represented a state of grace from which the world had fallen. We loved the idea of the Unfettered, an intellectual freedom cherished rather than subverted by the powers that be. And white gold - the incarnation of wild magic - the beloved and critical link that represents the fated relationship between Thomas Covenant and the Land. These are all sacred things.
As a reader, I was a bit mortified at some of the things that Donaldson was playing with in Fatal Revenant. In my opinion, he had tread too close to the sacred. And I was somewhat disappointed in the end result. I cannot help but feel that some things were better left alone. From reading the comments of others, I'm sure that there are others that feel the same way.
Let's start by considering hurtloam, the healing gift of the Earth. We know that the people of the Land knew of hurtloam. Now we have discovered that they first learned of it from Linden, in Berek's camp, in that far away time prior to the age of the Old Lords, when health-sense was just awakening.
Is the Land, or it's people, dimmed in our sight when we learn of this interpretation of history? Is the wonder of hurtloam cheapened when it is used by Linden as leverage for earning Berek's good will? Consider what Lena first said of it:"Have you seen any mud - or fine sand - that sparkles? Gleams? Like it has bits of gold in it? Or flecks of sunlight?"
Berek's frown deepened. "I have, my lady." Plainly he wanted to inquire, What do you know of this? How is it that you comprehend my transformation? But he did not. "It lies along the flow of water in streams and rivers. Sadly, I have no lore to name it."
Her heart lifted a little. "Is there any of it nearby?"
"There is, my lady." Again he did not question her. "We endeavor to place our encampments near water, as armies must. A creek lies a stone's throw distant. When we broke the ice to draw water, I glimpsed a sand such as you describe."
To herself, Linden breathed, Thank God. "It's called hurtloam." Unexpected hope filled her with trembling. "It's full of the same power that's changing you, the same power that you saw in the Fire-Lions. It heals."
The people of the Land believed that hurtloam was a gift from the Earth. And that finding such gifts is made possible through service, to the Earth and each other. But now we can see that they did't find it at all, that it was shown to them in order to expedite Linden's mission. It seems that the people in the Land were mistaken to think that the existance of hurtloam signified anything about their worth. Just as they are mistaken that there are other mysteries which might be revealed if they share enough.Lena dropped her eyes and answered quietly, "There is power in the Earth - power and life. You must know this. Atiaran my mother says that such things as hurtloam, such powers and mysteries, are in all the Earth - but we are blind to them because we do not share enough, with the Land and with each other."
Furthermore, Donaldson further erodes the mystery of hurtloam by providing us with a rationalization, in the spirit of midi-chlorians.
Donaldson's historical reinterpretation of the Unfettered is more of the same."There are a lot of springs under that mountain," Jeremiah continued. "They come out together at the base of the cliff. Most of them are just water, but one of them is EarthBlood. It's only a trickle, but it's intense — When the Black River pours out into Garroting Deep, it's full of Earthpower. That's part of why the Deep is so deadly. Caerroil Wildwood draws some of his strength from the river.
"Of course, it gets diluted. The Black joins the Mithil, and after that you can hardly tell it comes from Melenkurion Skyweir. But the Last Hills are right on the edge of Garroting Deep. From there, the power of the EarthBlood spreads into the plains. All that hurtloam is sort of a side effect," he concluded. "Earthpower has been seeping out of the mountain practically forever. Maybe that's why the One Forest used to cover the whole Land. Back in those days - ages ago - you could have mined hurtloam along every stream and river in the Center and South Plains."
His explanation saddened Linden.
In the first Chronicles, we had come to know, respect, and even cherish the idea of the Unfettered. That the Lords were so open, and so respectful of the myriad ways that talent can manifest itself, they they created the institution of the Unfettered, and celebrated the differences of the people who chose the unbeaten path. The Creator works in mysterious ways, and the Lords were humble enough to recognize that they cannot see all ends, or know all truths.
But now we know that the idea of the Unfettered did not originate with the Lords. No, it originated with a crafty lie told by the Theomach to Berek in order to cover Linden's tracks. I can imagine him slyly saying, "Linden is ... an Unfettered ... yeah, that's the ticket."
Sure, the Lords still deserve praise for recognizing a good idea when they see it. But that's not the same as thinking of the idea in the first place. I cannot help but feel that the images of the Lords and the Rites of Unfettering was diminished here. The Lords don't deserve any credit for the invention. Every time I re-read Lord Foul's Bane, and encounter Atairan's introduction to the Unfettered, I won't be able to help remembering the Theomach standing before Berek, making up stories to explain Linden's actions.
And what of the Seven Words?"There are those from the Loresraat," she said, "who find that they cannot work for the Land or the Lore of the Old Lords in the company of their fellows-Lords or Lorewardens, the followers of Sword or Staff. Those have some private vision which compels them to seek it in isolation. But their need for aloneness does not divide them from the people. They are given the Rites of Unfettering, and freed from all common demands, to quest after their own lore with the blessing of the Lords and the respect of all who love the Land. For the Lords learned long ago that the desire for aloneness need not be a selfish desire, if it is not made so by those who do not feel it.
Yes, it's very exciting to discover what all seven words are. Even more special is discovering what they mean.
But, as with the Unfettered, the seven words are no discovery of the Old Lords. Once again, we have to recognize that seven words did not originate with the Lords, or the people of the Land, but with the Theomach. And that the Theomach provided them to the Old Lords in order to serve his own ambitions. In some way, the stature of the Old Lords is diminished in our eyes; they cannot claim full credit for this accomplishment. It was another kernel of unearned knowledge.
Donaldson seems to have been thinking along these very lines, and perhaps recognized that he could go too far. He manages to contrive events in order to reserve a bit of dignity for poor old Berek.
The words were granted to Berek, but they left him, and he could not recall them. The Theomach, therefore, only helped Berek recall words he already knew - he did not give them to him outright. And so Berek remains a participant in their discovery, albeit one that requires help, and can claim some credit for the accomplishment of discovering the seven words."Nonetheless," the Theomach continued, "a form of speech occurred. Words became known to you, Words which you did not hear, and which you could not comprehend. Because they had been given to you, their puissance was evident. Also no other course remained to you. Therefore you uttered them aloud. When the Fire-Lions replied, you were as astonished as your foes.
"Since that moment, however, the Words have gone from you. You recall them
only in dreams, and when you awaken, naught but sorrow remains.
But without the Theomach, he would never have learned what they meant, or how to use them.
In this, and in many other ways, the Lords themselves have been tainted by historical reinterpretation.
Berek was a reluctant warlord plagued by visions he could not comprehend or master when the Theomach joined with him. He was merely the unadept leader of a revolution against his monarch. His experiences on Mount Thunder were an enigma that provided scant help in his battles. Health-sight was an affliction spreading through his troops; not understood, it hindered his men more than it helped them.
To have persevered under these conditions, overcome those obstacles, and to have created from it a governance of the Land by a Council of Lords, would be an awesome accomplishment, worthy of a man called Lord-Fatherer.
But it was the Theomach who is behind all of these good things. "The Theomach found a place as the Lord-Fatherer's tutor", said the Mahdoubt. Under the guidance of the Insequent, Berek learned the Words of Power. Under his continued tutelage, he eventually became a High Lord. Presumably, the Council of Lords, with its premises, traditions, and purposes followed, were all devised with the Theomach's guidance.
The most powerful of the human forces for the preservation of the Land was a side effect of the Theomach's ambition to get to the One Tree.
And, finally, we must speak of the white gold.
There is wild magic graven in every rock,
contained for white gold to unleash or control
White gold and wild magic were a mystery to the people of the Land. It was never something that the knew a lot about, it was rather something that they had heard of, that was hinted at, that was mentioned in murky history of time, in occult foretellings. Prothall said, "Knowledge of white gold has come down to us through the ancient prophecies". And yet, Kevin knew enough about white gold to design Amok so that he responded to it's presence. And Amok said, "It is spoken of softly by the Bhrathair, and named in awe by the Elohim, though they have never seen it. Great Kelenbhrabanal dreams of it in his grave, and grim Sandgorgons writhe in voiceless nightmare at the touch of its name. In his last days, High Lord Kevin yearned for it in vain."
Wild white magic gold. The legendary pinnacle of power, beyond the reach of desire or lore -- never seen until Thomas Covenant arrives in the Land.
If white gold is indeed the substance of the Arch of Time, then you may think that this is sufficient in and of itself to explain why it is known to some in the Land, albeit shrouded in mystery. But it is not. The Creator could not tell anyone, nor would he if he could. The Elohim may know of it, but they would not share such knowledge, even if the people of the Land had actually met them. And no one can actually approach the Arch of Time to take a sample and analyze it. So it is a mystery as to how the people of the Land came to know of it.
Well, at last Donaldson has revealed how the mystery of white gold came to be known.
I don't know about anyone else, but I felt the earth move when I read those lines. She's telling Berek about white gold! In my eyes, she certainly was accepting responsibility for the millenia.With the other, she indicated Covenant's hidden ring. "This is white gold." She felt that she was accepting responsibility for all of the Earth's millennia as she said. "It wields the wild magic that destroys peace. But it isn't natural here.
"If you want to know more, you'll have to ask the Theomach."
Fortunately, this means nothing to Berek. "It conveys naught," he says. So, there are, as yet, no legends of white gold. Berek doesn't see any significance in her words. She may as well have said, I've got 6 gigs of RAM and a dual core CPU. Linden did not reveal anything.
But the Theomach, we may be sure, subsequently did. Ask the Theomach. We know that subsequent to these events, Berek and the Theomach discussed Linden, for the Mahdoubt tells us that the Theomach claimed she was an Unfettered. And they discussed many other things. The Theomach found a place as the Lord-Fatherer's tutor. So presumably the Theomach imparted knowledge of white gold as well.
But does that fit with what we know? If the Theomach had taught Berek about the white gold, would such knowledge in later years be considered "ancient prophesy"? Would not any knowledge, be it small or voluminous, be as well kept as knowledge of the words of power, or of hurtloam? It doesn't seem to make sense that this knowledge would slip away until almost gone. And surely some would remember that it originated with Berek?!
(Don't even ask why no one remembers that Berek had a tutor of suspiciously unfathomable knowledge. I'm sure that the Theomach took care of that.)
These questions may or may not be significant. What is significant is that the mystery of white gold has been dragged out of the dark corners of the story and brought into the light, where it can be seen to in poor shape - slightly broken, unkempt, and in need of propping up. It was, in many respects, better off where it was. If Donaldson needed to pull the origins of the knowledge of white gold out onto the stage, we have to wonder why it wasn't treated with a little more care - made strong and tight and polished.
After only one reading of Fatal Revenant, my overall impression of Donaldson's use of historical reinterpretation is that I wish he didn't. I cannot help but think that things that I respected and admired and enjoyed ended up worse off for being explored anew. I don't think that the author intended this to happen, nor do I believe it was for a higher purpose. I think that it just suffered, perhaps needlessly. Then, the Final Chronicles are not over, and there is a chance that these dissapointments will fade.
I'll put my hand up and say "I don't get it" 
... He's saying that to us as much as to Linden.
